


Into the Night

by Blue_Five



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: De-Aged Derek, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mates, Unconscious Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3934552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Five/pseuds/Blue_Five
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles was on his way home when the accident happened.  And that wasn't even the weirdest thing about that night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xxxAthaelaxxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxAthaelaxxx/gifts).



> Based on a prompt from [xxxAthaelaxxx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxAthaelaxxx/pseuds/xxxAthaelaxxx):
> 
> Derek's been de-aged and thinks that Stiles is his mate but the two aren't in a relationship. Derek goes into heat and needs his mate to help him through. Kinks: Knotting, scenting, biting, anal play, oral sex, come marking and coming untouched.
> 
> I drafted an outline sort of quick off this and then realized it was going to be more than a one-shot. Hold on ... this is odd territory for me with the de-aged aspect!

Stiles Stilinski hummed along with the song blaring through his speakers, grateful once again that he’d sprung for the updated sound system in his _vintage_ – not _‘piece of crap’_ , thank you – Jeep.  His father, John Stilinski – resident and current sheriff of Beacon Hills, California – only shook his head at his son’s insistence about keeping his _vintage_ Jeep.  After all, Stiles was the author of a very popular video game series entitled _Mad Wolf._ With three games in the series already on the market, his fourth release was already predicting to be the biggest one yet.  Stiles Stilinski had more than enough cashola to purchase whatever mode of transportation he desired.  He just didn’t want anything else. 

After all, the Jeep had seen him through high school.  He’d gotten laid for the first time in a tent not three feet from where his speakers belted out 80s ballads on the local retro radio station.  He’d learned a very initially terrifying secret about his bestest bud Scott McCall in the Jeep.  That secret and the nightmares he endured afterward had eventually become the basis for the _Mad Wolf_ series, but no one needed to know that besides himself and Scotty.  Well, and maybe Scott’s sometime-Alpha, Peter Hale but those were thoughts for another day.

Right now, Stiles was driving back from Las Vegas where he’d spent a productive week at the E3 Expo.  He enjoyed spending time with folks of a similar mindset and he had several offers from big names in the industry.  Nevermind that he spent as much time playing demos as he did hawking his own titles … Stiles had a blast.  Scott hadn’t been able to make this year’s expo which was disappointing but Stiles was enjoying the quiet time.  He’d already mapped out a few changes he wanted to make to the new release that he figured he could work in and not disturb the schedule too much.

Spotting a truck stop, Stiles pulled over and filled his tank.  He was in the home stretch, but he had to go through the Pass before descending down into Beacon Hills.  He’d been diligent and checked the weather report.  They were expecting snow as usual but nothing that would cause him too much issue.  He smiled as he watched the clerk bag up his stash of pretzels, peanut butter, cheese sticks, energy drinks and chile picante flavored corn nuts.  He could hear his dad’s protest over the miles between them – Stiles was near-fanatical about his father’s health, but his own concern tended to disappear under curly fries and anything with salt on it.  Still, while it wasn’t exactly the preferred food stock suggested by Field & Stream for heading into snow territory, it was better than nothing.  Besides, Stiles, reasoned … nothing had _ever_ happened on his drives through the Pass previously.  He had his chains and survival kit (sort of) in his Jeep.  Stiles called his dad while warming the Jeep up.

“Hey, dad – I’m about to head up the Pass.  Should be home in a couple of hours,” Stiles said around a mouthful of pretzels.  “ _Yes_ , I have a full tank.  Just filled up.  _No,_ I’m not tired.  Awake and alert.  _No …_ ok, I have two Red Bulls.  _Dad_ … I promise.  I won’t guzzle them.”  Stiles eyed the half-empty can in his cup-holder.  “Will you relax?  Not like I haven’t done this before.  _Yes_ , I checked the weather, we’re good.  Light accumulation but nothing that’ll stop traffic.  I have all my supplies.  Can I go now or I’ll spend the tank I just put in it talking to you about driving the Pass!”

Stiles told his dad he loved him and ended the call.  He did love his father.  Losing his mom at such an early age had left them both with scars on their hearts.  He did his best not to cause his dad unnecessary worry even though Fate seemed against him on that one.  Stiles sighed, cued up his favorite playlist and headed up the Pass.

* * *

An hour into the drive, Stiles became aware of a single headlight behind him.  He snorted, wondering what idiot would ride a motorcycle up a mountain pass late at night in the snow.  The roads weren’t snowpacked yet, but the weather report seemed to have underestimated the rate of accumulation.  Stiles still had good visibility, but he was glad he’d be headed down out of the storm soon.  He suspected it was backbuilding and would soon be dangerous for travelers on the road. 

The headlight grew in size as the rider sped up.  Stiles frowned in his rearview mirror.  Even over his music, he could hear the growl of the motorcycle’s engine.  It was a big bike, then … probably a Harley.  Probably a garage queen taken out by her owner to show off and he was about to get himself stuck on the Pass.  Stiles decided if the guy fell back or Stiles lost sight of him, he’d call in the rider when he got back in cell reception.  That way the troopers would know there was a lone idiot on the road.  He slowed so the rider would pass.  Stiles heard the rider gun his bike.  He looked over as the helmeted rider passed him.  He was a little surprised to see the individual only wore jeans, leather jacket and regular riding gloves.

“What are you _thinking_ , moron?” Stiles muttered.

He startled when the helmet turned toward him abruptly.  Everything following would remain as flashes only in his memory.  The rider stared at Stiles from behind a black visor and then he was roaring past.  When he eased back into Stiles’ lane, the rider looked over his shoulder again much to Stiles distress.

“What the _fuck_?!?” Stiles cursed.

The bike wobbled once and then it was down, rider and motorcycle sliding down the snow-covered highway together.  Stiles reacted instinctively and slammed on his brakes.  Even as he did it, he knew it was the exact wrong thing – his Jeep fishtailed sharply to one side and then it was flipping.  Stiles felt every single slamming impact as his Jeep followed the motorcyclist along the highway.  He barely had time to pray that he wouldn’t go off the edge and end up at the bottom of a ravine when his vehicle was airborne and he was falling down into a group of close-growing pines.  The snapping of branches was the last sound Stiles registered before the world came to a gut-wrenching stop.


End file.
